


visions are seldom what they seem

by ariadne_odair



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (he's not actually mysterious he's a complete idiot but arthur doesnt know that yet), Good Morgana (Merlin), M/M, Pendragon Siblings, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Season 2 AU, arthur pendragon but with emotional agency and character development, arthur pendragon is trying his best, but very loosely, fairy tale AU, featuring merlin as the strange but very pretty warlock who lives in the forest, more mythological creatures than you can count, peak sibling behaviour, with none of the shitty cgi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: When Morgana discovers the Lady Catrina is in fact a troll enchanting the King, both Morgana and Arthur are forced to flee the kingdom. When they find themselves in a strange forest with even stranger creatures, Arthur may have to confront his feelings about magic and whether it really is all his father claims it to be.(He's also going to have to confront his feelings for the very pretty warlock they keep stumbling upon.)-Or - a story where Morgana has a secret, magic hasn't forgotten its role in the birth of the once and future King, and Merlin never went to Camelot, but destiny finds another way to bring him and Arthur together.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 142





	visions are seldom what they seem

Arthur is actually getting some peace of quiet for once, so he shouldn’t be surprised that Morgana barges in and ruins it.

One moment, he’s sound asleep after a hard day's training, the next he’s being shaken awake by a cold hand with pointy fingernails. Arthur jerks upwards instantly, nearly slamming his forehead into Morgana’s. (Which would have just been the perfect conclusion to this entire debacle.)

“Morgana?” Arthur sputters, narrowly avoiding a concussion. “What are you doing here - it’s the middle of the night.”

Morgana is still gripping his arm, eyes wild. “It’s Catrina.”

Arthur stares in confusion at the sound of his stepmother’s name. His father had remarried only a week ago. It had been a quick courtship to be sure, but his father had seemed happy and that’s all Arthur cared about.

(At least that’s what Arthur told people. And he was genuinely happy for his father, but there was always a small part of him that vowed - no matter that he was three and twenty and hardly a child anymore - that Catrina would never be his _mother_.)

“She’s a _troll_ ,” Morgana hisses.

Arthur blinks. “She’s not that bad.”

Morgana looks ready to slap him. Arthur clutches his pillow a little closer, just in case she does. “Arthur, she - I - “

For the first time, fear prickles at the back of Arthur’s neck. Morgana looks terrified; actually, truly terrified. She’s in a thin nightgown and no robe, her hair loose around her shoulders. It’s such a jarring contrast to the intricate hairstyles and patterned dresses she wears to court, and something in Arthur’s stomach twists with worry.

“Morgana, it’s alright - “

There’s a thump from outside his door and Morgana blanches. “It’s her, we have to hide.”

Before Arthur can protest, Morgana has yanked him off the bed and is shoving him underneath it. He blames still being half asleep and Morgana being freakishly strong for the fact he ends up sprawled beside Morgana on the floor.

He’s just about to demand what on earth is going on, when the door to his chambers creaks open. Instinct has him going still and silent, born of spending more days hunting in the forest than he can count.

There’s the sound of footsteps, then Catrina’s servant, Jonas, speaks. “She’s not here.”

They must have mistaken Arthur’s chambers for Morgana’s. In the dark it’d be impossible to tell and their rooms are close to each other. When they were younger, they’d evade the guards and slip into each other’s rooms after lights out, talking for hours.

Arthur had been lonely as a child, stoic and serious and small in the echoing corridors of Camelot’s castle. When Morgana had arrived, she’d been anguished and solemn and furious all at once. They’d been thick as thieves within days.

“She must have run already,” Catrina replies, only it’s not Catrina. It doesn’t sound anything like Catrina.

Arthur clasps a hand over his mouth to hide his grunt of surprise. Morgana elbows him in the ribs as if to say: _troll_.

Arthur glares at her because _yes, he’d bloody well got that_ , then freezes as the footsteps come closer to the bed. He gets a glimpse of what appears to be hooves under a floaty dress - which quite frankly makes him want to run himself through with his own sword - before thankfully they move away.

“She won’t get far,” not-Catrina growls. “We’ll hunt her down before she can open her mouth. I’m sure the King will be most pleased to hear we’ve uncovered the truth about his precious ward.”

Arthur has no idea what that means, but then that’s rather in keeping with this entire bloody night so far. He and Morgana stay very quiet as the footsteps recede, neither of them moving for a good half a minute to make sure Catrina and her servant are really gone.

Finally, they both wiggle out from under the bed, (spotlessly clean by the way - George takes his job far too seriously), and Arthur rounds on Morgana. “Would you care to explain what the hell is going on?”

“She’s a troll!” Morgana snaps. “Uther’s new wife. I had one of my - my dreams, so I went to investigate and found her looking like that!”

Arthur stumbles to the bed. He reaches under his pillow and pulls out the knife he always keeps there. “We have to tell my father - “

“We can’t!” Morgana says, and she sounds close to tears. “She has him under some kind of enchantment. I heard her say so. She’s going to - she’s going - “

Arthur strides over and grabs Morgana by the shoulders. “Morgana, she’s going to what?”

Morgana’s eyes shine with tears. “She’s going to tell him I have magic.”

“But - but you don’t!”

Arthur does not miss the slight flinch, but now is not the time. “That doesn’t matter, she’s enchanted Uther, I saw it. He won’t believe us, Arthur. I’ll be executed at dawn.”

Arthur opens his mouth to protest, but no words come out. Morgana has never been prone to hysterics; if she says that Catrina has enchanted his father, then it’s true. She looks more frightened than Arthur has ever seen her and there’s certainly something wrong with their new stepmother, if the last five minutes are any indication.

 _And even if she’s not enchanted him?_ a little voice in Arthur’s head whispers. _Would that matter?_ His father is never lenient on accusations of magic and Arthur - Arthur doesn’t know if even Morgana would be exempt from his relentless attempt to eradicate magic from the kingdom.

“We have to go,” Arthur says abruptly. “Morgana, grab those blankets from the cupboard.”

He strides to the door, taking his cloak off the hook there and drawing it around his shoulders. The knife goes into his belt; Arthur grabs another two hidden around his chambers and stashes them on his body.

Morgana is standing stock still as Arthur cracks open the window and looks out. “Do you think I could lower you out of here?”

Morgana doesn’t reply, but Arthur shakes his head anyway. “No, we don’t have any rope. I bet we could climb across the roofs though.”

Morgana still isn’t moving, so Arthur grabs a satchel and stuffs some of his older clothes into it. She’s still in her flimsy nightgown, she’s going to have to change into something more suitable once they’re out of the castle.

When Morgana finally speaks, her voice catches. “You’re - you’re coming with me?”

Arthur stumbles to a halt. Of all the questions, he didn’t expect that. “Morgana - of course I am. I’m not going to make you go off into the woods on your own.”

Morgana is staring at him like she’s seeing him for the first time. It makes Arthur feel uncomfortable, so he clears his throat. “Not as though you’d last a day without me, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up,” Morgana snaps, but she squeezes his arm as she comes to stand beside him. “Do you really think we’ll need to go across the roofs?”

Arthur considers it, but eventually shakes his head. “No, I think there’s too much risk of us being seen. Or slipping and breaking our necks. Come on, we’ll go out through the servant’s staircase. Hurry, Catrina will have woken half the castle by now.”

In the end, they manage to escape fairly easily. The warning bells are already ringing, but presumably everyone is looking for Morgana inside the castle, not along the servant quarters and out past the stables.

At one point a shout of ‘fire!’ echoes through the air. Morgana inhales and whispers, “There was a candle in my chambers. If Gwen has worked out what’s happened, perhaps she knocked it over. Caused a distraction.”

Arthur doesn’t know Morgana’s maid that well, only that she’s brave and extremely loyal to Morgana. He doesn’t doubt Gwen will have done whatever she can to help Morgana escape, even if she doesn’t know why they’re hunting her in the first place.

Soon they’re out of the castle and into the woods. Morgana trips on a rock and Arthur grabs her hand and holds it tight and then they run.

And, on a cold winter’s night, the Crown Prince of Camelot and the King’s ward disappear into the forest.

-

Arthur has travelled through the woods of Camelot at midnight before. On the hunt for more nocturnal quarry, or during long journeys to other kingdoms, where they’ve had to ride all through the night.

Admittedly, that has always been on horseback. Doing it on foot is a completely different matter.

At first, it’s not too difficult. Arthur has a vague idea of taking them towards the northern borders, where it’ll be harder for them to be followed. The trees grow more closely together there, and there’s a criss cross of rivers that will make it trickier for hounds and horses to track their scents.

But then a mist begins to fall, threading through the trees like smoke. Arthur quickly loses his bearings, though he doesn’t dare admit that to Morgana.

As it turns out, though, he doesn’t have to. A few minutes later, Morgana stops and says in a tired voice, “We should go this way.”

Arthur blinks at her in surprise. On first glance, the way she’s suggesting doesn’t look any different to the first one hundred trees they passed. He has no idea why Morgana is so certain this is the way.

“Alright,” Arthur shrugs, because quite frankly this night can’t get any worse.

They walk for an hour more, until Arthur calls to a halt. Morgana may be strong, but she’s not an experienced knight the way is, isn’t used to trekking for hours on a long campaign. She won’t be able to go for much longer.

They settle under a copse of trees, unrolling their blankets. Morgana falls asleep almost instantly.

Arthur doesn’t. He sits up for a long time, one hand on his knife, staring into the woods and trying to himself there isn’t anything staring back.

-

“So,” Arthur says the next morning. “Where shall we begin?”

Morgana, who’s attempting to start a fire, gives him a dirty look. Arthur ignores it and continues. “How about we begin with the fact my father has married a troll.”

Morgana sighs. “I didn’t actually know anything was wrong before he married her. It was only the other night, when I started having - having dreams. In them, Catrina wasn’t a lady she was a - a hideous creature. She and her servant kept talking about how they were going to enchant Uther, get him under her thumb so she’d have the entire kingdom at her feet.”

“So you went to look for her?” Arthur asks incredulously. “Your dreamt the Queen-consort was a beast, so you decided to hunt her down?”

“Obviously I was hoping I was wrong,” Morgana snaps. “Though god knows why, given my nightmares are never wrong and we both know it.”

Arthur swallows and looks down at his hands. He used to dismiss Morgana’s bad dreams, not because he tries to be a complete ass, but because - well. There hadn’t been any reason to believe they were anything more than that.

But Morgana’s dreams started being right. She dreamt that one of the knights fighting in the tournament last summer was using magic to enchant his shield. Arthur hadn’t believed it until the snakes had come alive in front of his eyes.

Morgana had thrown him a sword from the stands and likely saved his life, but she hadn’t even been irritatingly smug about it afterwards. She hadn’t even come to the feast - Gwen had reported she had a headache and would be unable to join them.

At the time, Arthur had been too busy spending the following week bearing the brunt of his father’s fury about magic being used in the tournament. Eventually he’d just chalked it up to a weird coincidence.

A lot of weird things happen in Camelot.

Then a few months ago, Morgana dreamed that Lady Sophia would try to enchant him. Which she did, meaning Arthur had to be saved by Gaius of all people, who somehow managed to stop Lady Sophia from drowning him by knocking Arthur out.

Knocked out by _Gaius_. Arthur couldn’t show his face around the castle for a week.

“I went down to the dungeons to see if she was there.” Morgana wrings her hands. “I didn’t actually expect to see anything! I thought I’d find Catrina but instead in her place was a giant, grey - “

“Stinking,” Arthur supplies.

“Stinking troll,” Morgana concludes. “The moment she saw me, she threatened to - well.”

“And she’s got our father under an enchantment?” Arthur says quickly, heart thumping in his chest.

“That’s what she said, though I don’t know how long for. Something about how it would be easier to control the King that way.” Morgana wrinkles her nose. “Uther has been acting a little differently recently but I just thought he was - in love.”

They both pull a disgusted face at that.

Arthur rubs at his eyes. “So to recap. My stepmother is a troll. My father is enchanted. And we’ve fled to the forest to escape her clutches.”

“Yes.”

“Great,” Arthur says flatly. “We’re living in a bloody fairy-tale.”

-

After some discussion and some chargrilled rabbit, they decide the best plan is to stay hidden for a while. Neither of them know whether Catrina will be satisfied with Morgana having left Camelot, or whether she’ll try and hunt her down. If her plan is to take over Camelot, Arthur doubts she’ll be happy letting two potential heirs go.

Then again, Arthur rather feels his judgment of her character has been skewed by the fact she’s apparently been a sodding troll the entire time.

“Leon won’t come after us,” Arthur says confidently. “Or if he’s clever, he’ll say he’s coming after us and take the knights in a completely different direction.”

Morgana doesn’t answer. She’s in one of her moods today, where she goes quiet and solemn and has this - this look in her eyes that Arthur can’t decipher, no matter how hard he tries.

They’ve been happening more recently in the past year or so. There was a time when Arthur always knew what Morgana was thinking, but now it’s like she’s - distant. Like she’s gone somewhere he can’t reach.

“I’m going to find us some fresh water,” Arthur decides, because if he can at least provide basic necessities, maybe the weight of failure on his shoulders will be a mite less crushing. “Don’t - don’t go anywhere.”

That does get Morgana’s attention at least. “Where _exactly_ am I going to go, Arthur?”

Arthur shrugs. “I don’t know what fanciful ideas you young ladies get into your heads.”

He doesn’t mean it of course, but it gets Morgana muttering something very unladylike under her breath, which is the desired reaction.

As he makes his way through the forest, Arthur comes to the gradual realisation that he has no idea where they are. This hadn’t been a surprise when it was the dead of night and they couldn’t see a foot in front of them. It’s slightly more worrying in the light of day.

Arthur has travelled through the woods surrounding Camelot since he was a boy. He knows them pretty well by now, but this place isn’t familiar in the slightest. It makes his neck prickle uncomfortably, and he picks up his pace.

Finally, he hears the sound of a stream. Arthur follows the noise, rounding a corner before coming to an abrupt stop.

There’s a boy standing by the river. A boy so startlingly pretty, that for a moment Arthur forgets to breathe.

The boy looks up, shouts in alarm and nearly topples into the stream.

“Are you alright?” Arthur says worriedly, rushing forward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t - “

“What the hell are you doing?” the boy snaps, righting himself before Arthur can reach him. “Why are you creeping around in the woods?”

Arthur gapes at him. “Why am - why are you creeping around in the woods?”

The boy snorts. There’s a flush on his cheeks, eyes bright, hands resting on his hips. “I’m not. I live here.”

“You live here?” Arthur repeats dumbly, and blushes.

He would like to think he’s usually a lot more eloquent, but there’s something about this man that just knocks him off kilter. He’s so damn pretty; tousled dark hair and eyes the colour of a summer sky. Sharp cheekbones, sharp chin, sharp tongue behind that pretty, full mouth.

“Yes, I live here,” the boy says slowly, eyeing Arthur strangely. “Where did you come from? How did you find these woods?”

Arthur clears his throat, trying to gather what’s left of his wits. “We’re just passing through.”

The boy stares at him. “There’s more than one of you?”

“That’s none of your business,” Arthur says stiffly.

“Paranoid, are you?” the boy mutters.

Arthur laughs incredulously. “You can’t talk to me like that!”

“Why not?”

Arthur opens his mouth, before closing it abruptly. “You just can’t.”

“Right. Really cleared that one up.” The boy bends down to retrieve the skein he’d dropped when Arthur startled him. “Seriously, how did you get here? No one ever finds these woods, not unless..”

He trails off, peering at Arthur as though he can see right through him. No one’s ever looked at Arthur like that before, like they’re actually seeing him. Not the Crown Prince or the King’s son or the head knight. Just Arthur.

“ _You’re_ here,” Arthur feels obliged to point out. “You found these woods.”

“I was looking for them,” the man says vaguely. “I’m Merlin.”

“I’m - I’m Arthur.”

Cautiously, Arthur reaches down to fill his skein with water from the stream. He takes a deep drink, moaning a little at how good fresh water tastes and wiping his mouth with the back of one hand when he’s done.

When he turns back, Merlin’s cheeks are red again and he looks away quickly. It makes something hot twist in Arthur's stomach.

Before he can say anything, Merlin blurts abruptly, “I have to go.”

“What? No, don’t go I - “

But Merlin is already turning on his heel and hurrying into the trees. Within seconds he’s disappeared.

“Great,” Arthur says to the air. “That’s just great.”

-

He doesn’t tell Morgana about the boy in the woods. Partly because Morgana will tease him mercilessly, and partly because he’s not entirely sure he didn’t imagine the entire thing.

“What do you suppose is happening in Camelot right now?” Arthur asks over supper that evening.

Morgana takes a delicate bite of her rabbit. “I imagine Catrina has put a price on my head by now. My corpse should fetch a good few shillings.”

“I wonder if there’s a bounty out for me, too,” Arthur muses. “Bet it’s higher than yours.”

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Morgana says snippily, and Arthur laughs.

“Can you believe Uther has married a troll?” he snorts. “How did nobody notice? She didn’t have hooves last time I checked.”

“She must have used magic to change her appearance,” Morgana suggests. “What would a troll want from Uther?”

Arthur shrugs. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Gold?”

Morgana is dressed in one of his old tunics and riding leathers, hair pulled back into a simple braid. There’s a scattering of scratches on the left of her face, from where the branches caught her as they fled through the forest. “Or power.”

Arthur groans. “We can’t let a troll sit on the throne of Camelot.”

“One already does,” Morgana mutters darkly.

They eat the rest of their dinner in silence after that.

-

Arthur has only been asleep for a few hours, when a noise jerks him awake.

He sits up with a gasp, heart pounding. He glances over to Morgana but she’s sleeping soundly, curled up on her side with her back to him. For a moment, he can almost believe he dreamed it, but then it comes again.

A low, echoing whine.

It’s not like any sound Arthur has ever heard before. He grips his knife then slowly climbs to his feet. The fire is still lit, flickering and spreading shadows over their little clearing. Arthur crouches down and stokes it so the flames are higher and brighter, before straightening and looking out into the trees.

Carefully, he makes his way through the forest and towards the noise. He keeps his footsteps light, barely making a sound as he picks his way through the leaves that scatter the floor.

Eventually, the trees begin to thin. Arthur takes a moment to mourn his sword back in Camelot, before stepping into the clearing.

His first thought is it’s a hound of some kind. The creature is pawing and whining at its hind leg, and Arthur flinches when he sees a nasty iron trap clamped around one paw.

And then the creature turns in his direction and it becomes immediately clear it’s not a hound.

Oh, it may have similar features to a deerhound, tall and lean, with shaggy fur around its scruff. That’s where the similarities end, however. Arthur has never seen a deerhound with fur the colour of dawn snow, unblemished and with hues of lilac in the right light. Everything but the ears - which are a deep, russet colour.

It can’t be fully grown because it has the gangly look of a youngster, with paws too big for its strong legs.

Even from a distance, Arthur’s neck prickles as he gazes at the creature.

The creature is unnaturally still as it appraises him. In the light of the moon, it’s eyes are an inky black. Arthur’s only seen a handful of magic creatures before, usually on hunts to stop them from destroying a village or killing townsfolk. None of them have ever looked like this.

He can scarcely breathe as the hound tilts its head, an eerily human gesture, before looking pointedly towards the trap. The realisation is like a blow to the head. It wants him to free it.

For a moment, a very quick heartbeat, Arthur wants to run. Run away from this clearing, away from this strange forest, run all the way back to Camelot, run, run, run.

But Arthur has never been a coward, so he takes one shaky step forward, and then another.

(Later, much later, he’ll realise the thought of killing the creature never crossed his mind. Not even once. Uther would have slaughtered it in a heartbeat.)

The hound is silent as Arthur draws closer. When he crouches down beside its leg, it doesn’t make a sound, only draws back a lip to reveal long, sharp teeth. Arthur receives the warning loud and clear.

The trap is made of iron. Undoing it is simple enough, and as soon as Arthur’s released the spring, the hound is moving away, swift and silent. It shakes out its back leg and Arthur watches in astonishment as the cut heals before his eyes, until there’s nothing but a silver scar ringing the animal’s paw.

The creature grunts as it inspects the mark. Apparently satisfied, those dark eyes turn in Arthur’s direction. Now he’s facing it head on, the creature seems almost ethereal, unearthly in a single shaft of moonlight. A ghost you see out of the corner of your eye, only for it to be gone the moment you turn to look.

It pads closer to him on silent paws. Arthur is frozen in place, but the creature stops a few feet away. It’s all languid, lazy movements, the dangerous grace of a predator.

But it doesn’t attack him. It doesn’t so much as bare its teeth. Instead, it gives Arthur a once over, before turning and bounding away. It’s unnaturally fast, darting between the shadows and into the darkness.

Arthur’s knees give out a second later.

He collapses against a tree, the trap falling from his hand with a thud. He’s breathing so hard he’s worried his heart might beat right out of his chest.

Arthur has the odd feeling he just passed a test he didn’t even know he was taking.

**Author's Note:**

> so i never intended to write this story. i have half a dozen aus in my google docs but i was thinking about fairy tale aus and this just hit me out of nowhere. if you're read any of my previous stories you'll know i take any opportunity to put mythological creatures in my stories - so this is just helplessly self indulgent.
> 
> i have also never written arthur pov - it's very different to merlin's and i feel i'm still getting to know it, but hopefully i haven't done a terrible job so far. i also haven't really written arthur and morgana as siblings - my fics tend to be post season 3/4, by which point morgana has gone off the rails with her murder and ratty hair. but i absolutely love writing siblings and so i am excited for this.
> 
> i absolutely believe that - if morgana had told arthur she had magic - arthur would have smuggled her out of camelot. he wouldn't have hurt her, but i'll save that rant for another chapter lmao
> 
> if you know what the creature arthur meets in the final part is that's awesome, but if not do not worry! it will be explained later on - he is going to have a big part to play.
> 
> comments are much appreciated! we will see a lot more of merlin in the next chapter - this is very much set up.


End file.
